


Complicated

by ConstantlyTiredReader



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Brief/Mild Suggestive Content, Denial of Feelings, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious Stretch, Pining, Sort Of, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyTiredReader/pseuds/ConstantlyTiredReader
Summary: Friendship is complicated. But, it turns out that dating is also, especially when it turns out the monster you’re dating doesn’t realise that you are, in fact, more than friends.AKA Edge has a humongo jumbo crush on Stretch and very much thinks they're in a relationship, but Stretch is a certified dumbass and just thinks this is how friends work.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Comments: 64
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some cute fluff to end out 2020, because goodness knows we need some.

So, the thing is, Stretch doesn’t always _get_ Edge.

To be fair, Stretch isn’t exactly the best at getting people at the best of times. Not on a personal level. The kind of understanding that, if he is to believe what Blue always told him growing up, helps lead to friendships instead of only friendly-ish acquaintances. That has always eluded him.

Sure, he may be able to figure out a lot about a person from expressions and shit — that’s one advantage about being the Judge, he guesses — but just because he can tell if a monster is lying about stealing a cinnamon pup from the general store when they were still in stripes, it doesn’t mean that he can always understand their motivations. The _what_ is easy to discern, but never the _why_. Never the feelings, which can be so complicated. Not without fully Judging, at least, looking deep into a monster’s soul to witness each and every one of their sins in full technicolour, which… no thanks. He’d rather not. 

Hell, maybe the whole potential of Judgement thing is even part of his difficulties. Stars knows that interacting with Sans and Red can be weird at times, and not just because of the whole alternate universe bro thing. Knowing that someone can look at you and know your deepest, darkest secrets if they wanted to? Yeah, that might explain why monsters his age never wanted to hang out with him.

But that’s getting beyond the point. As far as he’s concerned, Stretch is, well, not necessarily _happy_ about not always understanding how people tick, but it could always be worse. He’s used to it — and the weird, choking sense of loneliness that accompanies it whenever he’s trying to hang with people — so it works. 

Edge, though.

Edge is extra complicated. When they first met, he was cold enough to make a guy wanna sprint around Hotland while wearing a dozen or so sweaters just to break the chill. A big fan of one-word answers, their early conversations could barely be called that. And that, of course, is ignoring the ways that their personalities did clash, resulting in some heated bickering only to go back to the cold shoulder.

On the plus side, Edge was like this with everyone, not just Stretch.

Actually, that particular revelation is what helped push them into their current relationship with each other. Unlike when he was back in Snowdin, and Stretch could _feel_ when people were merely tolerating him because big bro had butted in, smiling bright enough to power the Core, and asked them to be friends with his ‘dear little Papy’, Edge had always interacted with him of his own free will. It felt obvious that he was _choosing_ to spend time with him. Why, he will never know. 

All he knows is that slowly, things got warmer between them. They still bicker a lot, but the vibe has moved from hair-pulling to more of an old married couple situation. These days, they can talk for hours, Edge usually fussing around cooking, cleaning or gardening while Stretch half-heartedly doodles while chilling on the nearest piece of furniture. Sometimes, Edge even comes over bearing little gifts: baked goods, nifty looking flowers, novelty lighters to add to his collection, hell, even croc charms despite Edge having made clear that he views Stretch’s favourite shoes as ‘an eye-searing disgrace that, should they have been used as a weapon in the war against the humans, would have prevented monsterkind from being imprisoned for centuries’.

A little weird, really, but hey, so is Stretch. Honestly, he’s just glad to have a friend(?????) other than his brother for once. It’s really nice.

Take now, for example. Having polished the already pristine living room until it shines, Edge is finally ready to settle down to watch some movies together. As per usual. It’s their weekly scheduled hangout night, after all, free from older brothers and their interference. Edge made supper, as always; it goes unspoken that neither of them wants Stretch to be the one to cook. Tonight, it’s homemade chicken fingers and fries, perfect for dipping in some nice honey. It also means that he gets the additional entertainment of Edge meticulously eating finger food with a fork and knife. That’s always a delight.

The food is ready laid out on the coffee table, lit by a pair of tall white candles. Trust the edgelord to really swank things up like that. Drinks are on the way; two cups of steamed milk (because angel forbid that Edge doesn’t make sure he’s got all the calcium his bones need) and two glasses of some neat honeyed wine. No popcorn yet, but Stretch has a funny that all he would have to do is think the word, and Edge would be back in the kitchen, making sure all of his culinary desires are met.

Stars, what did he do to deserve Edge?

Dimming the lights, Edge returns to the living room, easily balancing a tray carrying a bowl and the four expected drinks. And oh, looky there! Unless Stretch needs to clean out his sockets again, that sure looks like popcorn, salty and buttery enough to make him glad that he doesn’t have arteries to clog. Maybe he’s onto something about Edge having some kind of food-based telepathy. That would be really cool. Between that and Stretch’s shortcuts, they’re halfway there to becoming a superhero duo. Three-quarters there if he takes costumes into account; he would bet his favourite skull and crossbones croc charm that Edge has something that could easily be adjusted into a cape and spandex.

“you’re the best, edgelord,” he laughs as Edge teasingly yanks the bowl out of reach before he can snatch a handful of popcorn. 

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” is his only response, a fond smile breaking through his harsh words. And yeah, this is the kind of thing Stretch is talking about. With most other people, he would see the smile and be about ninety percent sure that it’s fond, but he wouldn’t know why. _Especially_ when paired with a scolding. But Edge? Edge is easier to read, to know that he’s amused because they both know that Stretch can out-eat him any day and still be ready for more.

Placing his napkin on his lap — he doesn’t really care, but he knows it will make Edge’s day — Stretch asks, “what’s on the schedule for tonight?”

Humming, Edge grabs the remote. “I thought we could just browse Netflix a bit and simply go with the flow.”

With an exaggerated gasp — the edgelord should appreciate the theatrics — he rests a hand over his ribs, exclaiming, " _you_ , stranding your beloved plans in favour of the oh so risky move of yolo?! it's the end of the world! the destruction of the universe as we know it! etcetera, etcetera!”

Sure enough, this earns the huff and eye roll that Stretch was expecting. Edge is, after all, a master of that particular combo. But that is the least of his victories. Nothing, in Stretch’s opinion, can beat the appearance of one of Edge’s decreasingly rare smiles, genuine and soft.

“May I sit next to you?”

Stretch shrugs, nonchalant. It’s Edge’s house, Edge’s couch. Honestly, he wouldn’t expect him to go anywhere else, especially since their food is laid out in front of them. For the sake of manners, he answers, “you do you, boo.”

Eye lights smoldering, Edge’s voice lowers to an oddly husky whisper as he leans in to say, “Oh, I am planning on it, _Papyrus_.” And, uh, what? 

What the fuck? He has so many questions, and nowhere to start. Why did Edge randomly call him by his — well, technically, _their_ — real name? Where did that come from? Why did he just say all that with total bedroom vibes, and more importantly, why is Stretch kinda into it? 

He doesn’t want to make things weird by reading something like _that_ into a (not-so) simple statement! Edge is his friend! A really good one, and pretty much one of his only ones, if he’s being real with himself. 

It’s fine. He’s probably just reading the vibe wrong again. Nothing new here.

While Stretch is going through that little internal crisis, Edge indeed sits down beside him. And by that, Stretch means really, _really_ beside him. As in, if he gets any closer, Edge is gonna be full-on sitting on Stretch’s lap. Which is neat. Especially after his little misunderstanding misfire.

But, hey, Stretch isn’t dumb. He’s not one of those guys who refuses to hug a homie because any sign of physical affection automatically means you’re in a relationship. Friends can cuddle and do all sorts of other shit platonically. The amount of times he came back home to find Blue and Captain Alphys borderline spooning on the couch, exhausted after a session of combat training proves that. He just wouldn’t have thought that it would also be a thing in Underfell. Maybe he’s just falling into stereotype or something, but he would’ve thought that people who aren’t lovers cuddling or sitting in another person’s lap would be a good way to get stabbed by a friend-turned-enemy.

Well, at least he can make the assumption that Edge trusts him not to shank him while they’re enjoying the ol’ boob tube. That right there is some progress over the old days, that’s for sure.

They end up settling on one of the first movies that show up on the screen. Some kind of cheesy human comedy, with a touch of wacky ‘science’ shenanigans to spice up the plot. It’s much more Stretch’s kind of thing than Edge’s, but he was the one to suggest it, so Stretch isn’t gonna complain. Besides, depending on how lame it is, it might get the edgelord to burst into an exasperated rant. Those are always so much fun. Edge’s expressions become so alive, abandoning his stoic Underfell mask. On the really good nights, Stretch can even get him to punctuate his statements with a toss of popcorn at the television. It’s great.

While some tiny kiddos try to train an ant to return them home, Stretch feels a gentle tap on the shoulder. Cheekbones weirdly red, Edge stares at him. And stares some more, the blush(?) growing brighter in the dimly lit room. Before Stretch can ask if he has a kernel of popcorn stuck in his teeth or something, Edge murmurs close to his skull, “Are you cold?”

Another shrug is his initial response. Because, truthfully speaking, the correct answer is nope. Not exactly cold, but, upon further thought, he would totally be down for a blanket if Edge is offering. That sounds nice and cozy. A good vibe, really, for this kind of wintry day. “a bit,” he ends up deciding. 

“All right.” But instead of getting up for a blanket or something, Edge just wraps his arm around Stretch, drawing him in. It’s… wow.

Edge is so warm, like he’s radiating heat straight to his very soul. It should be illegal for it to be so comfortable to be held close by a fellow skeleton, especially one who spends as much time working out as the edgelord does. Those strong bones make it easy to feel safe, not that Stretch had any worries about that.

Nah, if he were to have any worries right now, it would be about how embarrassingly fast he could fall asleep like this. He’s warm, comfy and safe. Good, filling food and soothing drink lull him in, overpowering the comedy sci-fi movie any day. Edge would probably be fine with it; he’s always telling him about how worried he is that Stretch isn’t getting enough sleep. He’ll understand.

Stretch stops fighting the inevitable. Gradually, his eyes fall shut. Bones growing slack, tension eases from his body as he sinks further into Edge’s embrace. In response, the edgelord only shifts them into a comfier position, soft, incoherent words whispered against his skull, so close that Stretch can feel the warmth of his breath. He thinks that it’s a wish to rest well. As long as he’s here, he knows he doesn’t need it; these days, it’s always easier to relax when Edge is around. The last silken threads of awakeness finally slip away, leaving Stretch with one last thought before his dreams are filled with adventures inspired by tonight’s movie and bonding time.

Stars, he is so glad to have Edge as such a good friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick head's up that that if you're very sensitive to secondhand embarrassment, you might want to wait to read this until I get to adding the last chapter. I don't think there's much, but this chapter does end on a note that could possibly cause that brand of discomfort. 
> 
> My intention for this fic is fluff even in times of awkward misunderstandings, but it getting overly long resulted in me dividing it into a few chapters instead of one, which unintentionally increases any and all awkwardness (and therefore potential secondhand embarrassment) faced by Stretch and Edge.
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy!

Stars, Edge can’t believe his good fortune!

Stretch, resting peacefully in his arms. The trust that this sweet, brilliant monster has in him, to let Edge hold him close at his most vulnerable. Soul pounding so loudly that he could not hear the movie even if he tried, all he can do is smile and draw him nearer.

His courtship of Stretch has been such a painfully, heart-wrenchingly slow process. Worth it, of course. More than worth it. Hell, Edge would be willing to go through it all once again if it meant he could keep doing this.

It took months to inch from a simple — but still just as wonderful — friendship to something more. Granted, so much of that time was spent in internal debate, wondering if this was what he really wanted. Stretch was wonderful, that he knew, but he wasn’t Fell. Their universes were so different from each other. Flipped in so many ways, and Edge couldn’t help but worry back then that those differences would cause them trouble. Life seemed so damn _gentle_ in Stretch’s universe, such a contrast to the everything that was Underfell. 

In a world where kill or be killed was not the law of the land, where monsters still let themselves be led by kindness and love instead of LV, would they be able to understand how much of a risk relationships could be? The level of trust it entails. Courtship was never a simple idea to Edge, and back then, he couldn’t know if Stretch would be up to that level of commitment.

Then had come the struggle of figuring what, exactly, Edge had wanted. There were a few things that he knew. He knew he wanted to protect Stretch. That he wanted to see him safe and warm and far from danger. The question was, then, what would that mean for the two of them? Technically, Edge had wanted the same things for the monsters under his authority in Snowdin. He had wanted the residents to live in what passed for safety in Underfell. For kids not to be hungry, to be able to live with parents in proper homes. Those desires were part of what prompted him to serve the Royal Guard, after all.

Yet, it felt _different_ , somehow, with Stretch. Even then, the act of providing for Stretch would make something in his soul warm. A pulse of satisfaction, of sorts, yet so, so much more.

It was in those months that Edge wished he could have spoken with Undyne. _His_ Undyne, back home. She was more than just his commanding officer, an ally and arguably the closest thing he had to a friend outside of his brother. They trusted each other, if nothing else. In Underfell, that was as good as things got.

Besides, it would’ve been nice to get her perspective on the whole feelings thing. Angel knows she owed him on that one; he spent so much time trying to get her to ask the Royal Scientist out for goddamn once. Edge is sure Undyne would have loved to yell at him about how obvious his love for Stretch was, probably trapping him in a headlock and subjecting him to hours of anime so he could compare the relationship within to his own squishy feelings. It would have been an… _interesting_ experience, but stars, what he would have given to have it.

And without her, that left him only one other person to talk with.

* * *

“hey, boss,” Red had said as Edge stepped into the living room, arm slung over his eye sockets. His sneaker-clad feet dangled over the arm of the couch, kicking particles of dried mud all over the carpet. “you’re home awful late. somethin’ happen at work?”

In response, Edge set down a large bottle of whiskey onto the coffee table. More followed. Glass clinked against wood, this earning an actual glance from his brother. Edge didn’t bother speaking. Not yet; this particular song and dance was nothing new.

“ah. we gonna eat something before the gut spilling, or are we goin’ for full regrets in the morning?”

As tempting as it sounded to get started, Edge shook his head. “There are some perfectly good leftovers in the fridge. It would be a shame to let them go to waste.”

“uh huh.” Said without emotion, Edge couldn’t begin to guess what his brother was reading into the statement. Red rose to his feet with a slowness Edge knew he relished in; life on the Surface had been good to him so far, transforming his natural alertness into an asset rather than a mere survival mechanism. Cracking his neck from side to side, he said, “welp. let’s get to it.”

And they did.

With their backs against the kitchen table, they sat together long after the sun had set. They were both half-drunk, sharing a bottle between them, and it brought back memories of life in Snowdin. Not good ones, necessarily, but not bad ones either. Times of fraternal understanding, coping with what life threw their ways. And this time, life’s projectile of choice was Edge’s feelings about Stretch.

Oh, _Stretch_.

“just collar him already,” Red finally slurred, his words half-formed yet oddly pointed. Edge had been wondering absently when his brother would finally lose his patience with his shit. Letting out a loud belch — _disgusting_ — he continued, “even if ya don’t wanna fuck ‘im, the honeybun could damn well use yer protection. it’s a win-win no matter how you spin it.”

Edge smacked him half-heartedly, stealing back the bottle with his other hand. “I’m not going to just go and collar him out of nowhere.” Even though the mere idea of his collar around Stretch’s vertebrae sent another fond pulse through his soul, strong enough to distract him from Red snatching back the alcohol. “Unlike _some_ people, _I_ have respect.”

With another swig, Red snorted. Miraculously, none of the booze went flying out his nasal cavity. “says the asshole who spends half his wakin’ hours arguing with the bastard like he gets that you’re tryna get in his pants. don’t know if you forgot, boss, but your boy ain’t fell.”

Oh.

Oh stars, he didn’t even _think_ about that. His actions should have been obvious; unlike Stretch, Edge did grow up in Underfell. He was raised with courtship procedures revolving around a certain level of… well, intensity. If he was back in his Snowdin and he saw someone arguing with another person the way he has been known to with Stretch, he would mutter something about them needing to get a room. Hell, by Underfell standards, the two of them would have been considered a fully fledged couple by now.

By trying so hard to remember that Stretch wasn’t Fell, wasn’t familiar with those customs, Edge had become blind to his own actions. 

Actions that should have indicated the true depths of his feelings. 

Edge didn’t need to risk a glance at his brother to know that he found his sudden realisation to be fucking hilarious. Instead, he simply took his turn at the bottle. It was going to be a long night, evidently, and he had some thinking to do.

* * *

From that point on, Edge was careful to revise his demonstrations of affection into something that Stretch would be more likely to understand. According to his research, gifts like sweets and flowers are traditionally romantic items, so he made sure to give them to Stretch in spades, along with other more personal offerings. Each time Stretch accepted, Edge could feel his soul flutter. Some of the verbal sparring stayed — he was willing to adapt, but abandoning his upbringing completely is a hard line to cross — but now, each battle ended with a smile.

Each time Stretch smiles, even now, Edge can’t help but love him even more.

Their first date was a casual thing. Edge had asked him if he would like to join him for a movie. Rather like tonight, actually, now that he thinks about it. At the time, Edge recalls his face burning, especially when he clarified that it would be a private night in. Just the two of them.

Stretch accepted his invitation, and the rest is history.

Ominous music, mechanical beeping, and children shrieking flood the room, an odd addition to this otherwise quiet moment of holding Stretch. Edge couldn’t say what, exactly, that combination has to do with the movie; the plot has gone flying over his head ever since Stretch relaxed into his arms. The only thing he can think of is how lucky he is to get to do this. So fucking lucky, and he would gladly go through an eternity’s worth of slow courtship with Stretch if it meant he could do this even once.

Not that Edge will ever vocalise those hyperbolic thoughts. He wouldn’t want to tempt the fates. Cruel, vengeful bitches; they’re probably the ones who taught his former king to be such a terrible tyrant. The fates could find a way to twist this for him, he’s sure.

Instead, Edge will stay here and relish every moment he is given. Stretch settles unexpectedly easily into his arms, all his lanky limbs folding and cushioned by cloud-soft cotton, his hoodie the same rich orange as a Surface sunset. Every once in a while, he makes a sleepy little snuffling sound, almost tooth-achingly adorable.

He could do this for hours. One day — soon, he hopes — maybe he will. Edge may not be one to laze his days away, but there is an appeal to the idea of spending simple time close to Stretch. Oh, they wouldn’t always be doing nothing; he wants to talk, to spend as much time as he is blessed with to listen to each and every thought popping through Stretch’s beautiful, brilliant skull. As they continue to develop as a couple, Edge wishes for this and so much more, all the tiny joys that spending time with Stretch will bring.

As the credits begin to play, Edge feels no shame in muting the television. Frankly, the song chosen to accompany the scroll of names is beyond obnoxious. Besides, turning it off gives him the chance to listen to a far greater soundtrack. When this close together, Edge swears he can hear Stretch’s soul beat. It beacons to him, the steady pulse of magic and his absolute inner being. If it wouldn’t wake him up, he would do his best to twist around and press his skull against Stretch’s sternum, making it so much easier to hear that sweet sound.

Gradually, Stretch rouses from his nap. Groaning, he shifts, rolling his shoulders, before settling back into Edge’s embrace. “wazzup?” he mumbles, his sleepy incoherence morphing it into a single syllable. His eye sockets remain shut, even against the forgiving dimness of candlelight.

“The movie’s done.”

It’s obvious when the statement filters through to Stretch. A scrunched line forms between his brows, and the impulsive part of Edge itches to kiss it smooth. He resists — barely. They haven’t exactly reached that point of physical affection in their relationship, and sneaking something like that onto him would be unacceptable, especially when he isn’t fully awake. Stretch squints over at the television. Finding a list of names rather than the film itself, he turns to face Edge. A bit of drool has stained the side of his mouth. Carefully, as not to jostle him too much, Edge reaches for a napkin from the coffee table, wiping it away before it can dry. He maintains steady eye contact, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“There you go, love,” he says, tossing the napkin aside. 

Stretch makes an odd expression at that, something that he cannot place. Edge’s smile fades. They haven’t discussed pet names; perhaps that one is uncomfortable? He would ask, but his sweetheart has already moved onto a new topic, musing at new movie options at a mile a minute. This will be a question for later, then; Edge wouldn’t want any miscommunications between them to cause issues, after all.

“i could go for some jurassic park, if that works for you?”

Stretch could suggest nearly anything at this point, and Edge would likely say the same thing. “That sounds wonderful.” _You’re wonderful_.

“great! what are the chances i could beg some more snacks off you?”

“Pretty good, I’d say.” But then, knowing that it should lead to a good reaction, he doesn’t move an inch, smirking at Stretch.

At first, he doesn’t seem to notice much. In his defense, Stretch is busy clambering off of Edge’s lap — a pity — presumably to free him for snack retrieval. It takes a bit longer, after he gets the movie ready to go, for Stretch’s face to screw up in a mix of annoyance and confusion.

“what’s the big deal?” 

“I’m waiting for you to beg. You said you would, after all.”

Elbowing him, indignant as can be, Stretch complains, “asshole.”

“Yes,” Edge agrees, and readily so; he can admit to his faults. Standing up, he stacks up the empty dishware to place in the sink while he’s in the kitchen. But before he leaves, he takes Stretch’s hand into his own. “But remember that I’m an asshole who loves you.”


End file.
